Truth or Dare: A Sweet Romantic Comedy Collection by Laura Burton (i read a book TXT) 📕

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. Of course, it's Tessa and her new man.

Michelle looks at me, then at the stage and back at me again. Her face flushes red and her brows pinch together.

“We’ll do it,” she shouts determinedly as she finishes her drink and slams the glass down.

“Are you serious?” I stammer as Michelle jumps to her feet and yanks on my arm. Dancing on stage next to Tessa and Eddie is the last thing I feel like doing right now. But Michelle grips my hand and I rise to my feet in obedience. She could lead me to the edge of a cliff, then tell me to jump and I would gladly do it. The rest of the couples cheer us on as we walk up to the stage.

I follow Michelle, still holding her hand, and my heartbeat is picking up pace. She swishes her hips with her steps as if the dance has already begun and her fluid movements make my stomach wobble like jelly. Then, just as we reach the steps leading to the stage, she stops and turns to me.

“Let’s show Tessa what a mistake she’s made,” Michelle says leaning to my ear, then she presses her velvety lips to my cheek. She steps back to give me a warm smile, the corners of her eyes creasing. I smile back, but squeezing her hand gives me the feeling that maybe Tessa didn’t make a mistake. Maybe letting me loose was the best thing she could have done.

Michelle

“Gentlemen, please take your ladies and wow the audience with your best dance,” Malcolm says, and slow, sultry music begins to play. Several people in the audience wolf whistle when Tessa’s man grabs her waist. They sway on the spot hip to hip.

I turn to Jonah. He glances at them for a split second, then he takes my hand in his and rests his other on the small of my back.

“You’re fierce. A leader, and you’re passionate––like a mountain lion,” Tessa says. I glance over to see her looking at Eddie through her lashes, her left hand placed on his cheek. He nuzzles her as they sway to the music, then he replies, “You’re vivacious, brave, and you taste delicious.”

A groan pulls my gaze back to Jonah. He has his eyes fixed on them, and his face is a twisted scowl. “What the heck is that all about?” he mutters, but not too quietly that Tessa doesn’t hear it.

“It’s just something we do when we’re dancing. We tell each other three things we love most about the other person,” she says.

I force a smile and refocus on Jonah, who turns his attention back to me. I realize I’m frowning as my eyes water, fogging up my vision. “Are you getting emotional?”

I blink furiously. As cheesy as it looks, I would kill to have Jonah tell me three things he loves about me. But I don’t want to admit that just yet.

“What? No. I’m just trying not to puke.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I drop my mouth in horror. Jonah clutches my waist, grazing the satin material of my dress with his fingertips. The touch sends little shivers through my body. “You’re not going to be sick, are you?” he asks, raising a brow. Suddenly, my mind places us back at prom night.

It should have been the best day of my life, with swooning and dancing, and maybe even our first kiss. I really thought prom would be the start of something.

But then Jenna White, Jonah’s rebellious older sister, spiked the punch, and I ended up hurling all over the dancefloor. Too mortified to look at the repulsed stares of everyone in the hall, I made a run for it, leaving a bewildered––and vomit-covered––Jonah, alone.

 We were dancing like this just before disaster struck. But I laugh off the memory and give Jonah a reassuring smile, even though my stomach is actually doing flips.

The music picks up in tempo and we throw ourselves into it. Neither one of us knows what we’re doing, but I’ve seen enough episodes of Dancing with the Stars to pick up a few moves. Jonah holds me firmly in his arms and I sashay my hips, lowering myself to the floor. In my head, it’s a sexy move, where I fluidly reach the floor and come back up to a stand again. But in reality, my knees lock up just as I reach a full squat and they won’t let me get back up. I try to stand again, but my knees forbid it.

Instead, I remain stuck, half-way down, groaning like my great Aunt Bertha when she picks up something off the floor.

I want to die.

A wave of laughter crosses the audience, and I don’t need to look at them to know what they find so funny. Gripping onto Jonah’s forearms, I give him a pleading look.

“I can’t get up.”

“What do you call that move?” Tessa asks as she and Eddie circle us like a pair of professional dancers. Eddie spins her around and lifts her onto his shoulder. The crowd cheers as she swoops down and he catches her, then they dance away to the other side of the stage again.

I turn away from them and look up at Jonah. His mouth is fixed in a thin line as he tries his best not to laugh at me.

“Here,” he says, squatting down to meet me. I’ve no idea how he thinks this helps the situation because now we’re both bobbing up and down in a half-squat position, looking like a pair of pigeons fighting on the street. Meanwhile, Tessa and Eddie continue their dirty dancing routine as if they’ve actually had time to practice.

“Just follow my lead,” Jonah mutters into my ear. He flashes a broad grin to the crowd and falls to his knees. Then he leans back like John Travolta at the end of Grease. I wobble on the spot, still struggling to get up, but Jonah grabs my hips, looks at